Operation Dynamo
by OhGodWhy151
Summary: Desperate to escape life with her abusive father, Annie steals his fishing boat to take place in the evacuation of Dunkirk - known as Operation Dynamo. She rescues a soldier named Bertholdt Hoover, and the pair fall in love quickly. But will their relationship survive through the horrors of the war?
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome to my new project! Once again Bertholdt and Annie but what do you expect from me. I've written this along with my friend Ostara-san so please check out her works because this was her idea! Anyway please tell me what you think!**

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 **4th June, 1940.**

In the coastal town of Dover, the ocean was a way of life. Situated on the closest point between Britain and France, it had become an incredibly important naval point in the Second World War. Hope for success in the war was high in Dover, and its residents were eager to help.

Annie was the daughter of a fisherman. Living in Dover, Annie had grown up visiting the beach with her friends, catching crabs from the rockpools, visiting the fish markets - but she was never able to set one foot into the sea - her father had not allowed it. He had raised her alone; a strict man, Annie's father had forbidden her from so much as even looking at the water, for which she resented him. He controlled every aspect of her life - who she spoke to, what she wore, what she did. He was a heavy drinker, which meant that over the years their income had decreased steadily, meaning that Annie had to do more than any teenager should have to in order to support him.

Growing up, Annie's best friend, Hitch, had been her escape from the life she shared at home with her father. Hitch was wealthy. She was the daughter of the mayor, which meant that when they had first become friends, Annie felt a little out of place in her house. But as the years went by, Hitch's family basically accepted Annie as one of their own. While her father was abusive and controlling, Hitch gave Annie freedom, and because of that, the pair shared a bond more similar to family than to friends. They were each other's confidants; Hitch was the only one who knew of the conditions of Annie's home life, and Annie had forced her to promise not to tell.

When the calls for help with the evacuation of Dunkirk came, Annie and Hitch had been sat around the radio at Hitch's house, listening to news of the war. They heard that almost 350,000 men were stranded on the beaches of Dunkirk, with no way to escape from the German forces; Annie's thoughts immediately went to these hundreds of thousands of soldiers trapped between the advancing enemy and the cold waters of the English Channel. Calls were being made for ordinary people like her to take their fishing boats and help them to evacuate. Annie wanted to do something.

As Annie walked home with Hitch along the water they looked to the boats docked in the port and the many sailors scrambling to ready themselves for the evacuation. Between them all they saw her father's small boat bobbing up and down in the water. While all the other boats in the dock were alive with lights and activity, his was seemingly abandoned. Knowing that her father wouldn't want her to have anything to do with the boat or the evacuation Annie felt a ball of anger grow in the pit of her stomach.

"They're doing a great thing," Hitch said, gesturing to the sailors and fishermen scrambling to leave.

"You're right, they are. My father won't go, though. I know that he will refuse."

"Your father is awful. No offense to you, of course, Annie."

"None taken," Annie laughed. "I think he's awful too."

"Would you go, if you could?"

"Of course. Why, wouldn't you?"

"I don't know the first thing about sailing, you know that. I would be more of a hinderance than a help," Hitch said, stopping to wave at the sailors on the first boat as it left the dock. "I'm better off here, boosting the morale of all the soldiers."

Annie scoffed.

"Hitch!" The men aboard called. "Promise to see us soon, will you?"

"Get home first, and I'll think about it!" She shouted back.

Annie sighed. "Does every man in this town love you?"

"Maybe," Hitch said, "but you know I prefer the men in London where father and I stay. They are so much more handsome than the men here."

"I can't imagine they could be much worse." In her seventeen years, Annie had not once met a man she fancied, which was one of the few things her father appreciated.

Hitch laughed. "Anyway, I'll be seeing you soon, right?"

"If I haven't stolen my father's boat, of course." Annie was joking, but the idea seemed to set in her immediately.

When she got home, her father was sat drinking at the table, making no effort to go out to sea and rescue anyone.

"You were supposed to be home ten minutes ago," he slurred, slumped halfway down in his chair.

"Sorry." Annie looked down at the ground. She head learned long ago to not talk back to her father.

He stood up. "Have you seen this nonsense?"

"What nonsense?"

He gestured out of the window, where Annie could see boats leaving from the port. "If they think they will manage anything, they're fools."

Annie felt her cheeks flush red with rage, but she maintained her composure.

"How so?" She asked.

"Those soldiers are as good as dead. They probably will be as soon as the boats arrive."

"They might not be. There's still a chance. Don't you think it's worth the risk?"

"Don't take that tone with me. You're naive and you don't know what you're talking about. I suppose you would want to go with them, wouldn't you?"

"I would if I could," Annie muttered under her breath, and slunk off to her room.

That night, Annie lay in her bed staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep. The thought of being left at home with her father while the lives of so many soldiers were in danger was sickening to her. Innocent lives were being lost by the second while she lay in bed doing nothing. She couldn't even listen to the radio as her father prohibited her from having one, and it was driving he crazy. Annie thoughts wandered again to her father's fishing boat, which was now most likely the only boat left in the harbour. It was small, and slow, and would only hold perhaps one or two soldiers. But she knew how to sail it; she had done so in secret many times, and had only gotten caught once. When her father discovered that Annie took his boat that one time he had hit her so hard she could not go outside the house for a week, in fear that someone would see her two black eyes and split lip.

She took a deep breath, and made the decision.

Annie silently got out of bed and packed a bag full of anything she thought might be useful. Bandages, food, water; check. She brought a blanket and a change of clothes, too, just to be safe. She had made up her mind - she was taking her father's boat she she was leaving As she went to sneak out of her front door she took a final look at the picture of her mother - the only picture of her in the house - and then she picked it up and put it in her bag alongside everything else.

The door was about to close when Annie's father's voice boomed down the hall.

"ANNIE!" He shouted, running after her.

Panicking immediately Annie slammed the front door and ran as fast as she could towards the docks, but her father was taller and faster, and soon caught up with her.

"What do you think you're doing?" He grabbed her by her hair. Annie flailed, kicking and punching to no avail.

"I'm going to help, seeing as you don't want to! I'm not a coward like you!"

Annie received a blow so hard to the side of the head she saw stars. She fell to the ground, stunned.

"You stupid girl." He spat on the ground at her feet. "If you go, don't ever bother coming back home again!"

Almost immediately Annie was up and out of her father's grip, running towards the docks. Her whole head was throbbing with pain but she didn't stop until she had made it onto the boat. Adrenaline was pumping through Annie's veins at the prospect of leaving her life behind and doing something meaningful for the first time in her , knowing full well she would never have to see her father again, Annie started the engine and began to follow the ships leaving for Dunkirk.

Annie sat in her boat, her eyes narrowed and her legs crossed, looking out at the endless expanse of water ahead of her. The night was clear and the ocean calm, save from the hundreds of other boats crossing it. The lights from these boats and the stars helped Annie find her way, and she was grateful that they were shining so brightly. Only a few miles beyond the horizon lay Dunkirk. Standing up, she searched for any glimpse of land in the distance. Her small boat soldiered on.

"Not long now," she muttered to herself. "Only an hour or so more."

As the blackness of the sky gave way to the purples and blues of the morning all Annie could hear was the lapping of the waves against her boat and consistent chugging of her engine. In the hours since her departure she had only set her course and sat quietly, thinking. She didn't know what the future held for her once she returned from France, other than that she wanted to enrol in the war effort. Annie decided to leave that problem for when she was back in England, and focus on her current mission.

It had quickly become clear to her that her boat was by far one of the slowest vessels on the water. Time after time Annie cursed her engine as countless boats of all shapes and sizes sailed past her. She feared that she would be too late.

When the first plane flew overhead Annie nearly jumped out of her skin. Looking up to the sky, she squinted in an attempt to figure out which side that plane belonged to. It wasn't long after that before the second plane buzzed across the ocean, and then the third, and the fourth. Soon Annie gave up trying to identify the aircraft and instead focused on the approaching land mass ahead of her. She tried not to feel scared, knowing that the soldiers trapped on the beaches were definitely in a worse position than she was.

Once again Annie found herself swearing and cursing at the laughable speed of her vessel. She was sure the faster ships had already reached the shore and her belief was confirmed when the first bomb hit the water.

Despite the distance between her and the beach, the force of the explosion was great enough to force Annie to cover her ears. Her eyes widened when she saw the column of water rise from the surface of the ocean. Barely a second later, another bomb ripped through the water, this time sending coal black smoke into the air. Crouching down, Annie listened for the strange whistling that seemed to precede an explosion. Although her fear began to multiply Annie remained on course, her eyes focused on the shoreline.

From that point on the bombings became nearly constant, with brief windows of tense, uncomfortable quiet between them. Whenever an explosion was followed by a thick pillar of choking smoke Annie felt herself ball her fists even harder. She was becoming more and more determined.

"It's too late to go home now," She told herself as a large navy ship overflowing with soldiers sailed past her, back towards Dover. "Not that I can go home."

Soon, more and more boats and ships passed her as they carried their exhausted and injured cargo back across the channel. Between bombings Annie would look over and see the sheer number of soldiers that had managed to climb aboard the larger vessels, looking to her own Annie bit her lip.

 _I'm only going to be able to get a couple people on this thing._ Annie thought to herself as she slammed her fist against the side her boat. _But there are still soldiers on that beach._ With strengthened determination Annie stood and guided herself towards the approaching shoreline. As she got closer and closer to the sandy beaches Annie was almost thankful for the size of her boat. As it was so small it allowed her to navigate past the larger ships and get much closer to the beachhead and the waiting troops - at least, what were left of them.

By the time Annie finally came to a stop on the beach it was practically empty; all that remained were bodies. No soldiers - just bodies. She grimaced, trying not to look at them, instead searching for any sign of life. Ignoring the buzz of the planes overhead and the now sporadic explosions Annie leapt ashore. Annie had known loss and grief - everyone in the country likely knew someone who had died in the conflict - but as a young girl she had never seen what war did to people, what the fighting, shooting and bombing left behind. Now however, it all lay bare in front of her.

Wandering across the sand Annie cursed her father for being too stubborn to pay for a new engine when she suggested he do so last year. She cursed herself for leaving so late at night. She cursed the war for taking so many young lives before their time.

"Damn it, damn it!" Annie hissed under her breath as she slowly came to the conclusion that she was too late.

Annie was only broken out of her trance when she heard desperate shouting coming from down the beach. Quickly dismissing her thoughts of defeat, Annie ran towards the voice. As she got closer she could hear what it was saying.

"Come on, Reiner! You're almost there!" It wasn't long before Annie could make out a couple of figures ahead of her moving towards another small fishing vessel. "Take him. He's injured!" There was a small pause. "No! You don't have enough room. I'll be fine, now hurry!"

Annie was now close enough to see the one of the soldiers push his comrade onto the boat before pushing it with all his strength back into the water. For a moment both Annie and the soldier were frozen in place.

 _How strong must he have to be to push that back into the water?_

He looked at her, and suddenly, everything seemed to quieten somehow.

Annie stared back at him. He was much, much taller than she was. He had dark brown hair, and from what Annie could tell in the low morning light, grey eyes. He wore a British Army uniform which was torn at the leg where Annie presumed a piece of shrapnel had cut him. Blood was trailing down his thigh, turning a haze of water around him murky red.

It was the sight of the injury that finally shook Annie from her trance.

"Come with me!" She yelled as another plane flew overhead, deafening her words.

He got the picture. The soldier shouted a goodbye to the boat leaving the beach and ran to Annie. He caught up to her quickly and took her hand, helping her to run back faster.

"Who else is left?" Annie shouted as they ran.

Not even turning to face her the soldier shook his head. "As far as I know I'm the last."

There were no more words between them as they sprinted down the shore. When they reached the spot where Annie left the boat, the soldier lifted her with surprising ease and placed her in. Just as he had done before, he pushed Annie out to sea before jumping in after her. Annie got the engine going just as more bombs started hitting the beach where they had been less than a minute before.

The adrenaline which had been coursing through her veins finally stopped once they were a safe distance away. The exhaustion she had been able to ignore suddenly hit her; Annie leaned against the side of her boat, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. When she opened them after a few seconds, she saw the soldier staring at her.

"Aren't you a little young to be out here on your own?" He asked.

Annie paused, narrowing her eyes at him. "I think what you were trying to say is thank you…?"

"Er… yeah, sorry," he laughed. "Thank you. I mean it. You saved my life."

She smiled back. "No problem."


	2. Chapter 2

"My name is Annie," the girl said.

"Bertholdt," he replied, looking over at her.

The first thing he had thought when he had seen her on the beach was that she must be some sort of angel. Until that point it had been months since he had talked to a girl, let alone one as pretty as she was. She was short, with blonde hair tied into a bun, and she had the bluest eyes he had ever seen. But now his heart had stopped racing he noticed that her appearance wasn't as ethereal as he had first believed. She was… hardened, somehow. Her hands were calloused, her eyes were sharp and on the lookout for danger, and across the left side of her face there was a sizeable bruise forming. Not to mention her sarcastic attitude.

He was soaking wet, his hair plastered to his head. There was dirt and sand all over his clothes, and he had begun to shiver.

"Do you want me to do something about that cut on your leg?" She gestured to the gash on Bertholdt's thigh, which was still bleeding slightly. "I don't want blood on my boat."

"That would be great. Thanks." For a moment there was a brief pause. Now that the explosions were over and the German planes had gone neither of them quite knew what to say. The day before, Bertholdt had been stranded on the beach, watching as over 300,000 thousand men were evacuated before him. He had been sure he was going to die, but now he was alone on a boat with a pretty girl with no idea how to make conversation. Part of him wanted to sleep, but more of him wanted to know about her. "This is yours?"

Annie, who was rummaging for the bandages, paused for a second. "What, the boat?"

Bertholdt nodded.

She threw him a towel to help him warm up, and a cloth to wipe the dirt off his face. "Kind of…"

"I'll take that as a no then."

"Well, she's mine _now,_ " Annie said devilishly.

"Whose was she before? Did you take her?"

"She was my dad's."

"But…?"

"But, since he refused to help with the evacuation, I decided to take her and go by myself. I got caught, and after he gave me this," - she pointed to the bruise on her face - "he told me not to come home ever again. So I think I'm within my right to keep the boat."

Bertholdt stared at her in a stunned silence.

He had never seen a girl like her before.

"He hit you? Across the face?"

Annie walked over to him, bandages in hand. "Yeah. And not just that once, either."

"And then you sailed here, by yourself, to rescue us?"

"No actually, I decided to stay at home. It's not like I'm actually here right now, or anything." Annie raised her eyebrows at Bertholdt sarcastically. He laughed; the first genuine laugh he had felt in far too long. "Now, I'm going to have to rip your trousers to bandage this, is that alright?"

"Of course, thank you."

"No problem. Does it hurt?" Annie asked, ripping the trousers around the thigh where the piece of shrapnel had cut through.

"Er… yeah, quite a bit now."

"Okay, well, this is going to sting quite a lot then, but I have to wash the wound or it could get infected."

Bertholdt grit his teeth and clenched the side of the boat as hard as he could, preparing himself for the incoming pain. Annie leaned over the side of the boat, dousing a cloth in saltwater. She kneeled in front of him and gently dabbed at the wound, cleaning it of the sand and blood. Bertholdt hissed as the saltwater stung the cut, which was a lot deeper than Annie had assumed before. It was a sharp, stinging pain, which was agonizing when combined with the dull but persistent ache of the wound itself.

"Is it too much? It's nearly done," Annie said, throwing the cloth to the side once she was finished.

She took the roll of bandages and wrapped them around Bertholdt's leg, wincing at the thought of how painful it must be.

"Thank you for this," Bertholdt said. His voice was strained.

Annie smiled as she tied off the bandage. "It's no problem. Least I can do, seeing as you're the one fighting for our country."

"It's brave of you."

"Thank you."

Bertholdt wanted to find out more about her. Talking to somebody disconnected from the war was refreshing to him; to have a conversation with someone who wasn't talking about a battle or giving him orders felt good. She was interesting, and was incredibly gifted on a boat, if she had navigated the waters to Dunkirk alone. He took his mind off his fears of the war - after their crushing loss in the Battle of Dunkirk, Bertholdt was nearly sure that Britain could be defeated soon. But talking to Annie distracted him from that. She reminded him of what life had been like before the war had ever started.

"So… why didn't your father want to come?"

Annie paused to think for a second.

"My father… he has always kind of hated the water, since my mum died, anyway. And he hates the fighting, too. The Great War took a lot of his family."

"I'm sorry about your mum."

"It's alright, I never knew her. I was only a couple of months old at the time."

"How did she die?"

"She got caught up in a storm one night. When it cleared up, they found the boat, but they never found her. My dad never forgave himself for letting her go out that night, so he started drinking and because of that he took it out on me. He was a fisherman, so he still had to go out on the boat sometimes… but he never let me take it. He was too scared to see the same thing happen to me."

"That sounds awful. I'm really sorry."

"Don't be. I'm alright with it now. I won't be going back home after this, so I have the future to look forward to."

Annie liked him. She had never spoken to anyone besides Hitch about her father, but she found it easy to talk candidly now, for some reason.

"There, you're all done," Annie said, standing up and brushing off her skirt.

"You're incredible. Seriously," Bertholdt said. "So where are you from?"

"Dover," Annie said. "And you?"

"London," Bertholdt replied. "Though I've not been home since. It's going to be so good to get back."

"Got anyone waiting for you?" Annie asked slyly.

"What, like a girlfriend?" He scoffed. "Definitely not. Just my mum."

Annie smiled to herself for a second. "She must be proud of you."

"I hope so. She'll be relieved to hear that I'm safe; I really thought I was going to die until I met you."

"The war must be awful."

"It is." There was a brief silence. "But I know it's important. And there are so many amazing guys who make it worth it."

"That guy from the boat you pushed away… was he your friend?"

"My best friend. We grew up together," Bertholdt said wistfully, thinking of times gone by. "But I doubt I'll see him until after the war, now. Although at the way it's going so far I'm not sure that will take very long."

"Why won't you see him again, aren't you in the same regiment?"

"Yeah, we were, but he lost an eye in the same explosion that hurt my leg. We're both lucky, I suppose, but I doubt Reiner will fight with us again."

"Will he be alright?"

"He'll survive. His pride will be shattered, but at least he will live."

"What will he do?"

"I'm guessing that he will be put in charge of some kind of factory, but I really couldn't say. But what are you going to do, if you can't go home?"

"Me?" Annie said. "It's been so crazy I've hardly had a chance to think. But I know I want to help with the war effort."

"You'd make a fine soldier."

She smiled, looking at her feet and feeling a slight blush crawl up her cheeks.

Annie stood up and walked over to check that they were still on course for Dover. The planes had long since disappeared. The sun was fully up now, and Annie could see the other boats far off in the distance. There were huge naval ships crammed with thousands of men on course to home. They were really going to make it.

For a while they sat in silence that was oddly comfortable for a pair on their first meeting. Annie brewed a pot of tea on a small gas stove and they drank together. It had been a long time since Bertholdt had enjoyed a cup of tea which didn't taste of dirt.

"Are you hungry?" Annie asked him a little while later. "I've got some food packed, but it's not much or anything. You're welcome to anything you want."

Bertholdt looked at her like she was the most perfect person in the world.

"I am _so_ hungry," he said. "I could eat just about anything right now. Rations have been impossible to come by for the past couple of days."

Annie threw him the bag. "Feel free, eat as much as you like."

"You're a godsend."

"I know," she grinned. "So, anyway, how old are you? You don't look too much older than me."

"I'm nineteen," he said, taking a bite of an apple and savouring the taste. "What about you?"

"Seventeen."

"Ah, I suppose you're still too young to marry to get away from your father then."

Annie laughed. "I wouldn't do that anyway, even if my father did let me talk to any men. You're the first guy I've ever even spoken to before."

"Let's hope I've made a good impression then," Bertholdt smiled at her. He was feeling like a completely different person than the soldier on the beach from just a few hours before.

 _Is he flirting with me?_ Annie thought to herself, feeling a blush on her cheeks for the second time that morning.

"Well? Have I?"

Annie studied him in a mocking way, as if she was scrutinising every detail. He was probably the most attractive man she'd seen in person, and he was certainly kind. "I'd say so, yeah."

She smirked at him.

He smiled, and a moment later gasped as he realised that the English shoreline was visible.

"Home!" He shouted, standing up too quickly, which caused his injured leg to buckle under him.

Annie dashed forwards before he landed, catching him in her arms. They fell onto the deck of the boat, causing it to tilt to the side suddenly. Seawater sloshed over them.

"Is your leg okay?" Annie said. She was slightly breathless, and stood up quickly, brushing off her skirt and inspecting the damp patch the water had left. All of a sudden Annie felt very embarrassed. She wanted the ocean to swallow her whole, but she didn't even know why.

Standing up, Bertholdt looked out to the shoreline, and then at her.

"Yeah, it's fine. Uh… is everything okay?"

Her cheeks practically radiating heat, Annie let her instincts take over and quickly kissed him on the cheek.

"Sorry," she breathed almost immediately after, furiously blushing, "I just suddenly thought I would really regret not doing that, and-"

"I know what you mean." Bertholdt was red too. "May I…"

Annie nodded, hardly knowing what was happening. He took a step closer to her and put his arms around her waist, pulling her into him. Their faces, for a second, were as close as Annie thought possible without them actually touching; then Bertholdt lifted her chin and gently kissed her on the mouth.

Annie had never anticipated that her first kiss would be this way, nor had she thought it would be so soon; but she had also never expected how wonderful it would feel. His lips were soft against hers, and sent a warm feeling through her entire body. If not for her want to continue kissing she would have laughed; just a day ago she could never have imagined being in this situation. It was ridiculous, but she had never felt as happy as she did in that moment.

For Bertholdt kissing her was the only relief he had felt in many long months. All the pain, the explosions, the fear…. they had been constantly plaguing him throughout the war. This kiss, to him, was an interlude of sorts, allowing him to forget everything bad in his life and indulge in a feeling which covered his whole body in goosebumps.

Bertholdt deepened the kiss, running his hand through her hair and letting it fall out of its bun. She pulled back, breaking their embrace. He looked worried.

"Is something wrong?"

"No," Annie looked down and smiled. "I just… I'm having quite a strange time."

"Tell me about it," Bertholdt said, sitting down as the adrenaline faded again and the pain in his leg returned.

There was then a silence which was not quite as comfortable as the one they had shared earlier.

Annie guided the boat towards the docks as the shoreline grew closer. Bertholdt fiddled awkwardly with his jacket, tying the same piece of thread around his finger over and over again.

"Annie, I hope you don't take this as presumptuous, but…"

"Yeah?" She hummed.

"I am not the sort of man for a…. fling, if you know what I mean. I'd like if you and I could keep in contact."

Annie turned around to him, and smiled. "I would like that too. If for no reason than to remember that this encounter was real. Let me get you my address."

She ducked into the cabin and quickly wrote down Hitch's address, quickly deciding that she would try and hold out there for at least a little while before she made off to help with the war.

"Here." She passed him the slip of paper. His eyes skimmed the words before folding the note and placing it in his pocket.

"Thanks," he said.

His cheeks were still slightly pink.


End file.
